Red Bird Devotions #30

One Ear Open

When my kids were just babies, and even when they got older, I could sleep soundly yet somehow wake to their slightest sigh.  I think mamas have this special ability--probably because they are so sleep deprived--to drift off, yet still listen for their very precious ones.  Oftentimes, my kids would just be crying in their sleep or reacting to a confusing dream, but I would hear them; then I would rise from my comfy bed and go to check on them.  I wanted to make sure all was well. Only when I knew they were safe could I go back to sleeping--with one ear open. 

Shouldn’t we do that with God too?  This world is very noisy. We can get lost in distraction. But, if we tune our ears to listen for even his slightest movement, his still small voice, we will be able to discern his “movement” even when our minds are elsewhere.  If we learn to listen with one ear open while we are going about our daily lives, we will be amazed at all he will show us.  Sometimes he may say, “Look at my sunrise.  I did it for you!” Or, “See that angry young woman? She needs you to notice her.”  Or “Even though you have been offended, offer grace.” Or sometimes, he will just say, “Slow down, Tori.  I need you to quit working and sit at my feet and listen.”  That’s when I need to stop, be silent, and open both ears wide.

When I tune my mama ears to listen to my Father, I learn the patterns, the cadences, the intonation of his voice. I see my small part in his big plan and I’m willing to move when he calls. 

Then, when I hear him stirring, I can rise from my grogginess, my forgetfulness, and my selfishness; I can rush into his presence saying, “Abba, Father, I am here!”

Abba, Father, I am here!

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!" 

Isaiah 6:8

“Be still and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10

Red Bird Devotions #22

Beyond My Bench

(Repost from June 5,  2012)

While I have been hanging out in Iowa City (my third trip on the ten day tour), during Tess’ college orientation, I have had opportunity to do lots of people watching (this is because I chose not to do the parent portion of the orientation since I had just done it two years previous).  

As I sat in the ped mall—a very cosmopolitan, outdoor, community-inviting section of downtown Iowa city—I ate my Jimmy John’s Turkey Tom Unwich and my cake batter froyo, I watched a traditionally-dressed Indian woman talking on her cell phone and guiding her tiny beautiful daughter, who stopped and stared at my yogurt, with her dark and delicate hand.  I saw another mother, Caucasian, obviously mid-forties, dressed in the clothes of a teenager, trying to look like a teenager, and walking with her soon-to-be college bound daughter, who was dressed in the same type of clothes; it was easy to tell who the real teenager was. I noticed a 50-something biker dude all decked out in spandex shorts and shirt, and he looked great from the back, but when he turned around, he had a huge belly which was showcased by his tight white biking apparel—and his phone—which had to be plastered with sweat to his skin—was also zipped inside.  Maybe he’s new to the sport. and wanted to make sure he had his phone in case of emergency.  I saw guys and girls walking hand in hand, girls and girls walking hand in hand, and young mothers with strollers and ice cream-stained children trailing behind them.  I heard a little girl on the bench beside me telling the people beside her that she had never seen so many birds up close.  The birds at the ped mall—pigeons, and sparrows, and little un-namables with very cute perfectly round heads—reminded me of the birds I had seen while in Holland in the town centers.  They are so tame and plentiful—looking adorable while they feast on everyone’s crumbs.  I saw two preppy guys and a magnificent-looking Siberian Husky retreat into a mysterious door on the side of a bar.  I eyed some parents on the bus with worried-looking faces—each wearing Iowa pins and carrying remarkable amount of Iowa paraphernalia—obviously here for orientation; as they clung to one another, their son sat aloof beside them trying to act cool and not scared. I watched a grandma, adoring her grandson as he toddled into the fountains of water erupting in the playground.  I told her that I was adoring him too, and she beamed.

I wondered about all of these people.  What were they thinking?  What were they doing out and about on this Monday afternoon?  Were they thinking about the doctor’s diagnosis?  or their late rent? or the fight they had with their spouse before they left?  Were they proud of their middle school baseball star? worried about their chronically sick child?  their wayward teenager?  their ailing parent?  Did they wonder how they would make it with their son away at college? Were they excited to be married?  depressed about their impending divorce?  rejoicing in being a grandma?  mustering up the courage to ask the admired one on a date? Were the moms delighting in their children? or just trying to make it through the day?  Were they appreciating the little ones’ dependence or yearning for an early bedtime?   Did they feel appreciated?  obligated?  taken for granted?  I thought about saying “Good job!” to the little Hispanic man cleaning the high light fixtures on the side of a building, but I didn’t. Maybe I should have. Maybe he needed encouragement. 

Everyone’s got a story.  Everyone feels pain.  Everyone feels joy. Everyone feels.  Sometimes that’s hard for me to remember.  Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my story, and my lunch. and my bench, that I forget to look beyond.  My world becomes all about me.  That’s not how God wants me to be.  He wants me to watch these people, get involved with their stories, and love them lavishly.  He wants me to show them Who He is by getting to know who they are. 

He wants me to get out of my own little world and into His big one.  That’s not an easy task for an introvert like me.  But I can do it, through Him, because I desire to obey.  and to become less like myself. and more like Him. 

Dear Jesus, help me to have eyes to see beyond my bench…and hands to reach your world.

Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart. For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.

^{1 Peter 1:22-23}

Red Bird Devotions #21

Living For Jesus

When the children were babies and Brent would rock them to sleep, he always sang the same song. Brent is not a singer (and I think maybe this is the only song where he knew all the words. He learned it in Cadets as a child) but his slightly off-key voice always sounded so sweet as he sang this to our sleepy babies lying in his arms.

I remember one night, when I was sad, my sweet husband sang this same song to me. As I listened to the words coming out of his mouth, I was struck by the solidity of the truth they contained. So…I decided to share them with you. Here they are:

"Living for Jesus”

Living for Jesus, a life that is true,
Striving to please Him in all that I do;
Yielding allegiance, glad hearted and free,
This is the pathway of blessing for me. 
O Jesus Lord and Savior, I give myself to Thee,
For Thou, in Thy atonement, didst give Thyself for me.
I own no other Master, my heart shall be Thy throne.
My life I give, henceforth to live, O Christ, for Thee alone.

Living for Jesus can be so simple.

And we make it so hard.

When we yield allegiance to ourselves and make Him our only Master, we truly will be glad hearted and free.

Let’s try it, shall we?

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

John 8:36

Red Bird Devotions #20

Heavenly Math

Do you ever play “Nerts”?  I do.  It’s one of the only card games I will play with my kids because it doesn’t involve any adding.  I’m horrible at adding, and at math in general, which I used to feel bad about until I read about the life of C.S. Lewis and found out that he was really bad at math too, and look how much people like him.  So anyway, as I was saying, Nerts is fun card game that involves building piles of cards in order.  If you are stacking upon your personal card piles, you must stack them in descending order and you must alternate colors, i.e. If I had a black ten (of any suit), next I would lay down a red nine (of any suit), and so forth, and I could continue this descent of cards in that pattern.  But, if I chose to lay down cards in the shared card piles in the middle of the table, I would need to start with an Ace of a certain suit and then stack cards of that suit and color in ascending order until I get to the King.  Your main goal in the game is to get rid of all of your cards, upon which your cry “Nerts!” and you win the game.  I explained all of this to you so that I could also elaborate on a spiritual truth that God revealed to me recently. 

In her book, Practical Theology for Women, Wendy Horger Alsup says that, “We have an outward, earthly reality in which we’re perplexed, persecuted, and wasting away [descending!]…In contrast, we also have an inward, eternal reality that reflects our sanctification, God’s renewal and transformation [ascending!] of our depraved souls into children who mirror God’s glory.  It is not natural for us to focus on what God is doing on the inside, but if we are to have any hope of enduring our earthly reality, then we  need to “fix our eyes” on this internal reality.”

And here’s what I thought of: Nerts!  You know, the ascending thing in one pile and the descending thing in the other.  Our lives, when we are Christ-followers are really like that.  And if you think about it long enough, it’s super exciting.  Because even though this earthly “tent” of my body is steadily billowing down (it takes a lot of work just to keep some air in the rain fly), my spiritual self—Christ in me—is just gearing up and getting better and brighter every day.  Woo Hoo!  That is encouraging news!  

I can work and fight and resist, but no matter how much I oppose the idea, my physical self is fading.  On the other hand, if I work and obey and discipline myself to listen to God’s voice, my spirit will grow and become strong and victorious—and nothing will be able to hurt me.  I am completely secure and safe in God’s hands.  No amount of bruising and battering in my physical life can threaten my future because He has put the deposit of his precious Holy Spirit in me. 

Still having trouble with them, there cards?  Check it out:

The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, 

   shining ever brighter till the full light of day. (Proverbs 4:18)

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

…but those who hope in the LORD 

   will renew their strength. 

They will soar on wings like eagles; 

   they will run and not grow weary, 

   they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:31)

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)

Earth+time = deterioration

Heaven+time = renewal

Now that’s math that even C.S. and I can understand. 

Halleluiah!

Red Bird Devotions #15

Broken

Two years ago, I fell on the ice and broke my wrist. I was rushing down a hill in our backyard that I had rushed down hundreds of times, but this time there was snow. And the snow had turned into ice as it sometimes does in our strange cold-warm-then cold again Iowa winters. I had dashed out coatless and shoeless (I was wearing slippers--maybe that is why they are called that) to feed the hungry dog.  All of a sudden, my feet slipped out from under me, and I caught myself with my left hand.  Being cold and in a hurry, I quickly jumped up, grabbed my watch, which had snapped off of my wrist, and proceeded down the hill and into the dog’s kennel.  When I got to the concrete below, I noticed that my arm was throbbing, and I looked down to see my left hand sitting atop my left arm in the place where my wrist had been (I have graciously spared you the picture.). Needless to say, all was not well.  I went ahead and fed the dog and then walked back up the hill and went inside. Then I called Brent on the phone and said, “I did something bad to my arm.  It looks really deformed.”  Within 20 minutes, he had arrived, and we were heading to the Emergency Room.  When I presented my deformation to the girl at the desk, she gagged slightly and then got me into a doctor ASAP.  When the doctor saw my misshapen limb, he proceeded to send me to X-ray.  The X-rays showed that I had broken my very first bone at age 50. 

After a few weeks in a huge cast from my armpit to my hand, my bones were not healing correctly, so surgery was scheduled.  My body wasn’t able to align my bones itself, so a surgeon--with a mask and power tools (I heard them in my twilight sleep)-- had to place a plate and some screws inside my arm to hold my wrist in the right position.

What would have happened if I refused surgery and let my bones heal on their own?  If I left the cast on, took extra vitamins and visualized it as “all better” ?  My bones actually would have healed, but incorrectly; the structure wouldn’t be the same as before and I would have probably lost some use of my wrist--maybe even my entire arm.  I couldn’t properly fix my wrist all by myself.  I needed a physician’s help. My wrist is nearly perfect now (though I can see the embedded plate move when I wiggle my fingers back and forth; ask me to demonstrate sometime)…because I sought help from without.  Relying on my own methods or practices would never have fixed the effects of my fall. 

Sometimes, I treat my feelings the way I was tempted to treat my wrist; I try to manage them on my own because giving the control of them up to “Someone else” seems too scary.  But it is only when I submit to this Someone--this God who made me, weak wrists and all--that I can truly use my emotions correctly.  You see, my emotions are also broken because of the Fall; in my natural responses to life, I want to nurse my grudges, elevate my opinions, and play the victim when things don't go my way. When I react with my default mechanism (which for me is self-pity over submission), I am unable to use my feelings the way that God designed me to do. 

 As my wrist healed from the surgery--an actual event in time--the doctor prescribed certain exercises to strengthen the surrounding muscles and help them adjust to this new way of moving.  When Jesus places his Spirit within us--an actual event in time--we can practice certain disciplines to help us learn to walk in step with him.  These disciplines don’t give us salvation--only Jesus can do that--but they train our hearts and our minds to think like a child of God; we practice spiritual disciplines, like reading our Bibles, praying, and meditating on the goodness of our Father, to strengthen our spiritual “muscles.” 

It takes deliberation and practice to walk as a child of God.  And falling is inevitable.  But faith in the Great Physician strengthens our resolve and keeps us on solid ground. 

Amen and amen.

“Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind; then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.” Romans 12:2